Tag Archives: intuition

Have you ever been at a point, where it all seems so obvious and you can’t believe people are still arguing over what is blatant?

That is me, here, now in this cybersphere. I thought that by leaving FB I would find respite- but one doesn’t simply go cold turkey with social media- they migrate and adapt.

For me, this was moving over to Twitter, where the conversation completely changed and I felt like I jumped into the deep end of the lake.

On FB, I had over 500 friends and over a 100 followers… I know, I know; nothing to brag about, but it equaled engagement.

On Twitter, I have roughly 90-96 followers and I am pretty sure at least a dozen of them are surveillance. When one of the surveillance accounts realizes I am useless- they move on. That’s cool- what ev’s.

That doesn’t stop the weirdness on my end though- Nope. I am still at the mercy of algorithms when I go check my feed.

My motto: “I’ll follow back until your posts get whack.”

Why? I am not your judge- I am not your jury. If you start posting stuff that makes me want to act in a negative or violent way- I will simply remove you the way I would a thorn or a splinter.

I will pay attention to the wound, give it care with things that will remove the intrusion.

This doesn’t mean I am running away or avoiding things- it means I am doing what I can to control my internal environment which will ultimately impact my external environment. I could let my wound fester, or I could care for it and bring it back to optimum function.

90% of what I see posted online, makes me want to kick someone in the shins- why? Probably because when we hurt we try and hurt others and the things I see posted bring me more than a modicum of pain.

If leaving FB taught me anything, it’s that I am sick of making myself responsible for the pain of others, or assuming that I was the source of pain, to begin with, because that is how hard we can be on ourselves. We will assume so hard that a post is about us, that it will tear us up inside and then overflow into the life we live that isn’t attached at all to a SIMPLE FUCKING POST!

It’s crazy- but it’s real and normal for day to day life. How many people are lugging around their own unspoken guilt and ruining the lives of others because a post was worded in a way that makes an individual have to face their own conscience?

I had to leave because I was on the brink of kicking shins because of the fakeness of all of it. I wanted to kick shins because it would really hurt, in real time- but it isn’t fatal, but it is brutal.

I sit here at times just hoping for a real and raw conversation about how fucked up we are individually and in groups- not because I want to further twist a wound but because I can’t wait to find people who are finally mature enough to address the issue while also avoiding kicking shins.

I’ve found people would rather kick shins until they are bruised or deal with broken toes that have to heal from all the kicking.

I want a conversation or ten to be good enough. Most people would rather mince words, or not talk at all, because they know their words will hurt as bad as a bruised shin.

When I say “I can’t do this anymore.” It is because I truly can not do it anymore. I am smart enough to know that there are others in the world who don’t want to operate on the program we have been fed- and those are my loves of forever. They are the ones who keep coming back, again and again, so that none of us are left alone in the struggle.

While in the womb, you just grew and developed and thought whatever thoughts developing souls think cushioned in a vitreous bubble

Listening to the voices outside of yourself as you are jumbled and tumbled around by your incubator, the love of your creator holds you still and yet, not

You didn’t consciously think “I should grow an arm right now”, while your mother craved pickles and puked at the smell of salmon, or laughed at a joke she once told, and then forgot and told again

She didn’t think about her loss or change of appetite as anything other than a sort of synthesis where you were able to show your first impressions of the world, which were merely reflections of the last one you left

Connected yet disconnected by a few stops from your last departure

As a Mother, she, just kind of dealing with it. And hoped for the best. “I don’t care what it is- as long as it is healthy! Ten fingers! Ten toes.”

She didn’t sit to manifest you, but rather said, “So it is, I guess this will do.”

The Mother Knows, that these impressions can last longer than a lifetime and the purging of herself in the openness of newness is proof. Suddenly a new entity, little-me arrives!

To some, on a sunny day and to others a rainy night.

In each of us, there is the reflection of the Mother, for we could not exist without her.

But in each Mother, there is a reflection of eternity, and she graciously imparts that upon us without request. It is a shock for all parties, and a strange blessing without a manual.

The impression is beyond permanent, it is in the genetics and all of the beautiful unfoldings that appear to be effortless

As I say goodbye to one platform, I open myself up for new explorations. Tonight I recorded a bit of a rundown toward my reason to deactivate my account and put the focus on other places. Join me on this audio journey- and do whatever you want when it comes to your own social media- but if your intuition says “let’s get out of here.” GO, and post haste.

Have you shut it off yet? Do you want to? Let me know about it. I will read what you post and, if you want to interview about it- I am more than happy to hear about your experience. I look at it as walking out of the most unintentionally dysfunctional polyamourous relationship, I never meant to get into.

Hoʻoponopono (ho-o-pono-pono) is an ancient Hawaiian practice of reconciliation and forgiveness. Similar forgiveness practices were performed on islands throughout the South Pacific, including Samoa, Tahiti and New Zealand. Traditionally hoʻoponopono is practiced by healing priests or kahuna lapaʻau among family members of a person who is physically ill. Modern versions are performed within the family by a family elder, or by the individual alone.

Thanks Wikipedia!

Dear –

I am sorry,

I forgive you,

I love you,

I thank you.

These are the four small but massive tenements of change.

I realize, “I love you”, just isn’t something I think or feel, until I do. It is such a rare thing. But when I finally feel it; it feels intentional, yet somehow, also distant.

I will say “I love you” to those I adore, but our geographical distance keeps us removed. I pass the sentiment through telephone lines and satellite feeds.

Meanwhile, my grandma, a few rooms away; and who I truly and deeply love, sits alone. Why is it, I say “I love you”, to her, begrudgingly; almost with bitterness?

What have they done to deserve this? If it is only my discontent, and we are all the same person, only separated by meat sleeves like sausages; am I spoiling those around me?

I am reminded by old adages; “Treat yourself as you would have others treat you.”

The Chorus Of My Answers-

I am mean to myself.

Some lost Golden Truth, imposed and impressed-

” Treat others as you would have them treat you.”

The reality of my actions-

“Treat me like disturbing trash in the wind. Be swift with your disgust and disregard immediately.”

*****

So, I lay in bed.

I recite, “I am sorry.”

My next thought is “What am I sorry for?” Deep down I know the list is endless.

“I forgive you…”

But why? I can’t even forgive myself.

“I love you.”

For what? I hate love. I hate the word “love.”

“Thank you.”

What did I do? No need to thank me. How can we live in thankfulness with feelings like this?

“I forgive you for not believing in me. ( I don’t blame you, I haven’t believed in me, either.)

“I love you because you are lovable. (Even when you don’t feel love or lovable.)”

“I thank you for being, me. (We are One, and that is why it hurts.)”

By this time I feel the familiar choke in my throat; a solitary tear creeps between the slits in my closed eyes. Again I feel that Love/Hate resurface… what have I gotten myself into?

“I am sorry I dehydrate you, every day.” (What a dick I am. I know better.)

“I forgive you for enabling me.” (Why am I my biggest enabler?)

“I love you for the limits you set.” ( How can you even say that? My limits seem nonexistent to myself, these days.)

“I thank you for understanding.” ( I think you might be mistaken… for now I am more confused.)

*****

I go further. I focus on my grandmother.

“I am sorry you are getting old.” ( I wish I had more patience and kindness.)

“I forgive you for your failing body.” ( If only we could turn back time.)

“I love you so, so much!” ( Why am I crap, at showing it?)

“I thank you for your continued support.” ( I suppose that is the least I could do, right?)

“I am sorry I am a bitch to you.”

“I forgive you for not stopping me.”

“I love you because you exist as 100% love, in my mind and heart.”

“I thank you, for being just the way you are.”

The grey matter in my brain feels extra mushy.

“I am sorry I can’t figure out how to make life easier for the both of us.”

“I forgive you and your past.”

“I love you because, I do and always have.”

“I thank you, for your silent strength.”

*****

Most days, it’s just me, and her. And the only people I have to feed, is us. Admittedly, most days I wait until I am absolutely hangry before I choose to eat. By that point, she has already been snacking, and squashes our plans to have a shared dinner.

I have made plans for food for “us”, not “me.” Tonight I do not want to eat alone, but her disinterest is telling.

At this point, I am so hangry, that I put on some boxing gloves and punched a tree for three solid minutes. I do fifty jumping jacks. I wonder if I am killing the tree, by not hugging it enough.

I avoid eating “our” food, and have another drink.

My Lover calls me back. He tells me “Everything is great! I just had dinner with an old friend of mine that I haven’t seen in a long time.”

I tell him, “That’s all I was calling about earlier…. I gotta go.”

The call disconnects, and I am pretty sure this time it wasn’t my fault, but who knows. The hung dial tone is loud and it’s amplifying my rage. In all this dissonance I decide to take a drive behind King Soopers.

I am looking for a “For Sale” motor home I heard about over a week ago. There are several motor homes and fifth wheels in the trailer park area. Nothing is labeled “For Sale.” I am miffed; this adds to my daily defeat. I just want reinvention and newness; with out babies.

I think I am wasting all my good karma on free drinks.

A week ago I wondered what if I treated alcohol and tobacco, the way I treat psychedelics; I never buy them, they are only received once in a blue moon by gifting, and they must be blessed before consuming.

Today that idea seems a void. The small destructive pleasure of escapism are at times, the little lights of living. The little social resurrections, despite how volatile. Obviously, I don’t ask for much. Maybe, I don’t ask for enough. I can’t bare to ask for more, but why?

This Universe is supposedly infinite; most of us really don’t need much. Many ask for more than they need, and receive more than they asked for.

I don’t mean to sound humble… my ego isn’t very humble; however my needs are few, and therefore I would say my needs, are humble.

“You get what you ask for.”

“You get just what you need.”

“You get what is coming to you.”

“You don’t know how to appreciate it now.”

Maybe not, but I think I do. Every moment is “Now.” Science says time does not exist. Spirituality says we are all infinite. Astrology says I will find abundance in my 50’s. Fuck, that is another 20 years.

“To some, 20 years IS a lifetime.”

I tell my inner guru to shut the fuck up. It is annoying the present place, now, me. Fuck.

*****

I make my way four miles home from the pub. I grab a sammie on the way. I Hoʻoponopono along the way, trying to reconcile some people in my life that I feel have the same emotional lack that I feel in the present moment. I believe the motion of walking will solidify my meditation.

“I am sorry I’ve allowed you to lie.”

“I forgive you of your past lies.”

“I love you for your brazen attitude.”

“I thank you for teaching me.”

Despite my outward expressions, I am just talking to myself, out loud.

I continue.

“I am sorry you haven’t been honest.”

“I forgive you for your misuse of imagination.”

“I love you for your creative spirit.”

“I thank you for your unabashed-ness.”

*****

Home is quiet. The loves in my life are both asleep. I am happy to sleep alone while battling the reality of falling asleep alone.

Those two don’t realize how different but the same they are. My loves.

One sleeps in the basement and the other sleeps above, only separated by twenty feet, and fifty years. I lay in the middle of decades; always more distantly close to one, more than the other.

Distance. Miles. Emotions. Years.

*****

I decided after a long while, to google what I can only say, was once “The Love Of My Life.”

His refusal to engage with social media led me to finding his baby momma, now wifey.

“What am I doing with this lurking?”

I find her comfortably taking up space on Facebook. Right there, now, in my face sits this happy little family.

There he is, still handsome. His daughter looks a lot like him. I cringe. I cry a little.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think that this should have been us… our life would have been different, most likely childless.

I have only had a handful of relationships, and this is just another one that tells me, (from the outside looking in,) that I am all wrong.

I have tested every man I have ever loved; ultimately pushing them far, far away. Not long after we are over, they move on and start families with women far more congenial; far more loving, far more responsible. I can’t help but wonder how damaged I must be, or how clueless my self dependence is.

I am, in fact, so sick of being and feeling alone. Out of love. I am sick of feeling like I have to keep my emotions at an arms length away from potential love. I am sick of not finding attraction that stirs my understanding and compassion. I just want to feel the stirrings of mutual love. Loving mutually. I want to wipe those past relationships from my broken heart.

Those who did choose to love me, loved very hard. In turn, I had a very hard time accepting it, until it was gone and over.

Hindsight is 20/20, right? It is. I know.

*****

Dear Lover,

I am sorry we didn’t know how to love each other. I forgive the pain we cause each other. I love you, always. Thank you, for taking time to love me.

I am sorry for breaking your heart. I forgive you, for breaking mine. I love you, and I can’t stop. Thank you for teaching me.

I am sorry things didn’t work out. I forgive you for hitting me. I love you for the sweetness’ we did share. Thank you for setting me free.

*****

There is just so much to say, and not enough words. Again, I am left with question and yearning. I would have given him everything, if he would have just, let me in.

I love a lot of people, but being ‘in love’ is rare. Mostly for me, it seems attraction is not a defining component of love, how ever it is a huge factor of ‘being in love.” I don’t just mean physical attraction; I mean multi-level attraction. Body, mind and soul searching type shit.

A burning of compassionate passion, that brings two bodies into a union. I have found the sparks of those fires quickly die off. Admittedly I hold grudges that affect my mind, actions and libido. My libido is already, very weak.

I don’t want to be touched (physically) by ‘just anyone.’ I need everything to feel ‘right.’ This rarely happens. Instead, I find myself upon some high dusty shelf in some sort of “self preservation.” I wonder, if I am wasting time?